


but you've got the love i need to see me through

by discowing (ameliafromafairytale)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Coming Out, Damian Wayne Gets a Hug, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Family Fluff, Fluff, Good Bro Dick Grayson, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Good Sibling Cassandra Cain, Multi, No Incest, Sickfic, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliafromafairytale/pseuds/discowing
Summary: Dick loves giving hugs as much as he likes getting them - that is, a lot.(Dick + hugs for/from his family)
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Roy Harper (background), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain (background), Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent (background)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 315
Collections: everybody loves dick





	1. tim

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda fell into super art hyperfocus mode over quarantine (which was completely unexpected, given that I tend to draw sporadically at best) and didn't spend that much time on my fics, whoops. Then my friend [insomniac-piggy](https://insomniac-piggy.tumblr.com/) mentioned loving how much hugging I have in my fics and I was like "oh shit wait don't i have a whole wip just for hugs????" 
> 
> im taking a huge step outside my comfort zone and publishing something before i actually have it completely written, but i do have just over half the chapters written already. im hoping publishing this gives me some inspiration and motivation for the remaining chapters, haha. 
> 
> first up is dick + tim! this chapter takes place in the preboot timeline at some point after dick goes back to being nightwing (and goes back to nyc with the titans, bc uhhhh fuck dick living in bludhaven). i miss preboot dick + tim :( hell, i miss preboot TIM, since whoever the fuck that is in the comics rn is _not_ him. is anyone, though?
> 
> (title from "you've got the love" by florence and the machine)

Dick glances at his phone again as he waits for Tim to answer the door, but the text that prompted this visit is still just as vague now as it was when he first read it this morning. 

_Can you stop by my apartment today? I have something important I want to discuss with you_. 

Perfect grammar and punctuation? While the message itself isn’t too concerning, the fact that Tim used _capital letters_ is. Dick's mind is still drawing a blank for what he might want to discuss with him and the thought of Tim having a Big Problem without him having any clue of what it might be only makes his anxiety worse. He tries to convince himself it's just an important case, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

He hears Tim undoing his locks; a few seconds later, the door opens and Tim’s trying-but-failing-to-hide-how-anxious-I-am face appears. 

“Hey, Dick, you’re right on time,” he says, offering a smile that’s just a bit too wide to be real and sounding like he had been hoping Dick would be late. 

“Hey, little brother,” Dick says, stepping inside and pulling him in for a quick bro hug. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, um, for the most part,” Tim says upon pulling back, leading him over to his living room where they settle on his couch. “Thanks for stopping by on such short notice; I know the drive from New York is no fun...Can I, uh, get you something to drink? Or - did you eat lunch? I have snacks; do you want pretzels?” 

“I’m good, but thank you for offering,” Dick replies. He decides to get straight to the point. “What’s got you so nervous? I don’t bite.” He offers a disarming smile but it just seems to make Tim even more anxious. 

In a weird way it makes Dick nostalgic, reminding him of how lovably dorky and awkward Tim had been before trauma started overwriting his personality with depression and paranoia. Still, the thought of Tim feeling like he has any reason to be scared or apprehensive around Dick upsets him. 

“Um, I - I…” Tim swallows as he trails off, suddenly very focused on where his hands are fisted in his pants. Dick gives him a moment to try and collect himself, but even after a few seconds he still can’t seem to get the words out.

“Hey, bud, it’s okay,” Dick says. He scoots closer until he’s right at Tim’s side, wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulders and pulling him in for a gentle side hug. “I don’t know what this is about, but you can tell me anything; I _promise_. C’mon - deep breaths. Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Tim exhales sharply. “But it’s...I _know you_ , but my stupid brain won’t let me calm down. I can’t just _say it_.” 

“Would it help if we did this Twenty Questions style, maybe?” Dick asks. Tim hesitates and then nods. “Okay. Let’s see, gotta start broad...Um, so this thing you wanted to discuss - did you want to talk about a person, place, or thing?” 

Tim lets out a nervous chuckle. “Person,” he says. “Definitely a person.”

“Hm...is that person me, you, or someone else?”

“Mostly me,” Tim says. “But, ah, a little bit someone else.” Dick nods. 

“Is that someone else part of the family?” 

“No,” Tim replies. So...not Bruce or Damian, two of the most likely candidates. 

“Are they a hero or a civilian?” 

“Hero,” Tim says. His social circle amongst non-Gotham heroes isn’t as big as Dick’s is, so that narrows things down a bit. Not Ives or Tam, then, either, though it’s been a while since Dick has heard Tim even mention Ives.

“So...somebody from your team, maybe?” Tim nods. “Okay...Is it Conner?” Tim nods again. Dick taps his chin, trying to think of what might’ve happened with Superboy to have Tim so worked up. “Did him and you get in a fight?” 

“No,” Tim says, but he’s hiding his face in Dick’s shoulder now. 

“Did...something good happen with him, then?” Tim nods, still hiding his face. Dick blinks as a possible scenario suddenly comes to mind. It _would_ fit with Tim’s unusually nervous behavior and the subject of their conversation... 

“Tim, did you and Conner kiss?” he asks carefully. Tim goes very, very still, then nods again. “Hey, buddy, look at me,” Dick says, gently lifting Tim’s chin. There are tears in his brother’s eyes when he finally looks up. “Oh, kiddo, come here,” Dick says, pulling him in for a tight hug. 

Tim starts crying, hugging him back fiercely like he’s afraid he’ll lose Dick forever if he lets go. 

“Hey, hey, there’s no need for tears,” Dick says, petting Tim’s hair. “Kissing boys isn’t anything to cry about.” For some reason that just makes Tim cry harder. “Aw, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Dick reassures him, holding Tim close and feeling relieved that it wasn’t actually Bad News he was called over to discuss. Still, it makes his heart hurt to think that Tim was nervous about sharing _this_ with him. 

Sometimes, Dick thinks Tim learned _too_ many things from him, repression among them. Still, this is a big thing for Tim to have been holding in. He doesn’t usually sob so uncontrollably or for so long; all Dick can do is hold him gently but firmly while waterfalls of tears stream down his face, telling him everything’s okay and that he loves him.

Finally, though, the tears begin to dry up; gasping sobs turn into hitching breaths which in turn eventually fade to mostly stable breathing. Eventually, Tim is coherent enough to reach for the tissues that he must’ve put on his coffee table in preparation for this instead of just letting Dick’s shirt absorb his tears and snot. He blows his nose several times before he seems ready to talk. 

“I don’t know where to begin,” Tim admits at length, his voice still thick from crying. 

“Let’s start with the kiss,” Dick suggests. “Was this recent?” Tim shrugs. 

“Sort of,” he says, sniffling. “We’ve kinda been - “ he gestures vaguely, “ - trying things out for a...a few months, I guess, but over the weekend we - we decided to make it official.”

“Congratulations, then,” Dick says. His smile is a tender, precious thing, a beloved glass figurine carefully exchanging hands. “He makes you happy?”

Tim nods. 

“Really, _really_ happy,” he says, leaning against Dick’s side again. “Like, so happy it makes me scared.” 

“Good,” Dick says firmly, dropping a kiss in Tim’s hair. “That’s what’s most important. You _deserve_ to be happy, you know that?” 

“Yeah, but…” Tim sniffles again. “I was so happy it made me realize that...that I wasn’t the same kind of happy with any of my girlfriends. Like, I liked them, but I didn’t feel any of the big, swooping stuff I guess you’re _supposed_ to feel when you _really_ like someone, y’know? Even Steph, I never felt that...that _spark_ , or whatever, that I feel when kissing Kon.” His breath hitches. “Dick, I...I think I’m gay.” 

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” Dick asks, deciding to do something he should’ve done a long time ago if today’s made anything clear. “I guess I haven’t been super open about it with you and your siblings, but I’m bi. The last thing I want is for you to think I’d judge you for your sexuality, especially since we’re in the same boat. My experiences aren’t exactly the same, of course, but I bet a lot of what you’re feeling right now is something I’ve dealt with before.” 

Tim looks up at him with wide eyes, still red-rimmed and puffy from tears. 

“You like guys?” he asks, fragile hope in his voice. 

Dick nods. “That would have something to do with why I’ve been living with Roy for the past few months, yeah,” he says, smiling. “But hey, I don’t want to get off on a tangent. What I’m trying to say is that I love you _so much_ , kiddo, and who _you_ love isn’t gonna change any of that. Capiche?” 

“Capiche,” Tim says, hugging Dick again. “I’m sorry for making such a mess on your shirt,” he chuckles wetly. “I feel like an idiot for being so nervous, now.” 

“Aw, none of that,” Dick says, hugging him back. “That’s my little brother you’re calling an idiot; I don’t tolerate that kind of badmouthing from anyone.” Tim laughs again. 

“Thank you, Dick,” he says, softer. Dick squeezes him tighter. 

“Never doubt how much I love you, Tim,” he says fiercely. “Nothing you can say or do will _ever_ make me stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummm so. i am a lesbian and my coming out to my parents was......not awful, but it really wasn't as good as i had hoped. i wasn't forced to come out, but i didn't exactly choose to come out when i did, either. i cried a lot and they were nice enough, but i didn't really hear what i wanted to hear. to my embarrassment, even as vocal as i am about lesbian not being a dirty word, i wasn't even able to actually say to them that i was a lesbian - all i could say was that i like girls.
> 
> so uh. here is me working out some stuff via tim for once (plot twist!), and letting dick say the things i wanted to hear and be the support i wanted to have. yeah. also kinda inspired by the fact that my little sister and i never actually told each other that we were lesbians, we just kinda....vaguely alluded to liking girls and then eventually found out by following each other on twitter, lol (yeah, my parents' only kids both ended up being lesbians - so anyone who says you can't have a family full of lgbt people is W R O N G). happy pride eve, i guess?


	2. cass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dick + cass!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i believe credit for the idea of cass trying interpretive dance goes to [merc](https://jennymeispark.tumblr.com/), aka one of the very few people i trust for cass takes. 
> 
> anyway, the world needs more cass and dick just being goofy siblings together.

Dick stops in his tracks.

He’d just dropped by the manor to pick up Roy’s birthday present from where he’d hidden it safely away from prying eyes, but something out on the grounds below his window catches his attention. Stepping closer, he presses his forehead against the glass like he knows Alfred hates and peers down to the lawn.

...It’s _Cass_. Dick wasn’t aware she’d be at the manor today. What is she doing outside? It’s cold enough that Gotham just got their first snow - the grounds look like someone shook powdered sugar all over everything. Yet, she seems to be either dancing or running through some forms he’s never seen before.

He glances at his watch - he still has time before he needs to get ready and meet Roy and Lian for dinner. Making a decision, he opens up the window and rests his arms on the sill to watch. Cold late autumn/early winter air blows in and the faint sound of music trickles up from where his sister moves below. She must have a portable speaker set up somewhere. Dick shivers, reaching into his coat pockets for his gloves. He’s glad he opted not to take it off at the front door, now.

Cass stops moving for a moment, the music pausing as well. Opening his window must’ve caught her attention because she turns and zeroes in on him immediately.

“Dick!” She calls up, waving at him exuberantly just like she does every time they see each other at the airport. He smiles, touched by her enthusiasm, and waves back.

“Hey, Cassie! What’re you up to?” he returns.

“Dancing! Come join me!”

Even if he’d opted not to take his coat off, intending his visit to be brief, he is still civilized enough to have toed his shoes off at the door. Lack of shoes isn’t a problem, though; there are a couple of pairs of shoes he keeps in his room for emergencies and situations like these that take no time to slide on.

Dick carefully leans out the window enough to get a look at the manor’s exterior walls. There doesn’t seem to be any ice on the stones, so it should be safe enough to climb down. The way out his window and down the walls is a well-practiced and familiar routine no matter how long it’s been since he last did it; he’s walking over to his sister soon enough.

She smiles, forgoing another wave in favor of tackling him in a hug. Not one to be knocked over, Dick squeezes her back and lifts, spinning her about a few times before returning her to her feet. He loves that she lets him do that and she loves that he wants to do it; they have a special understanding with each other about how they physically demonstrate affection.

“I didn’t realize you’d be at the manor today,” he says. “I would’ve come over earlier if I’d known; we could’ve spent more time together.”

“Steph needed to study,” she says. “She said I was... _distracting_ her.”

“Say no more,” Dick laughs, well aware of what Cass is implying. “This city needs more doctors; we each need to do our part to make sure Steph gets through med school.”

A sudden wind gusts at his back and he shivers. Cass, who has gloves, a scarf, and a hat on but no jacket, smirks at him.

“You need to move,” she says. “Dance with me!”

“Okay, okay,” Dick says. “What kind of dancing are we doing? It didn’t look like you were dancing ballet.”

“Ballet is nice,” she says, “but very...rigid. Um...structured? Not a lot of freedom. Barbara said I should try _interpretive dance_.” Dick’s eyebrows go up.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ve never tried that before, though, so go easy on me. How do you want to do this?”

She shrugs. “I just...listen to the music,” she says. “Make up a story as I go along.”

“Okay,” Dick says, nodding. “I...guess I’m ready when you are?”

“Don’t think, just dance,” Cass smiles. “It’s fun!”

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and hits play, music coming from a portable speaker balanced on a rock he hadn’t noticed earlier. The song is instrumental - it’s in a minor key but has a very upbeat and jaunty tune, making it sound sort of bittersweet.

It reminds him of opportunities lost or otherwise missed, of finding happiness anyway but still wondering if things could be _better_. Success but with regrets, roads never traveled, things left unsaid…

His movements are a little unsure at first, unused to this kind of dance; for a performance like this, he would normally be on a trapeze and not his feet. He throws himself into the activity soon enough, though, and moves without abandon. Even though the story he hears in the song is sad, he’s actually having a lot of fun as he leaps and sways and twirls around Cass.

She’s hearing a different story, he can tell. Still, they move together well. Dick has no idea if their dance is at all appealing to _watch_ , but the enjoyment he gets from doing it outweighs any concern about appearances.

The song comes to a stop with Dick twisted around, reaching back behind him towards Cass. She stands facing away from him, hands folded behind her back and on her tiptoes as she looks up.

They hold their poses for a long moment, then break them when the next song starts to play and Cass rushes to pause it.

“That was _great_ ,” Dick says, breathless from excitement rather than physical exertion. Cass, her cheeks flushed red from the cold, nods, beaming.

“What story did you hear?” she asks. “Your dance - it was happy, but also sad...bittersweet?”

He nods. “I heard a song about regrets,” he says. “Having a happy life, but looking back and wondering if things could’ve been better. How about you?”

“Redemption,” she says. “Wanting a better future, hoping that change can make that happen even though there’s bad stuff in your past.”

The knowing smiles they offer each other are tinged with sadness, both aware of how their own life experiences colored their interpretations of the song.

“Thank you, Cassie,” Dick says after a moment. “I don’t just let myself go like that often enough.”

“Thank _you_ ,” she says in return. “Not everyone dances with me when I ask.”

“That’s their loss,” Dick says. “They don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

The wind gusts again. This time Cass sneezes, though she does an excellent imitation of a cat when she immediately tries to act like it never happened.

“I think it’s time you and I head inside,” Dick says, unbuttoning his coat and draping it over her shoulders without a second thought. “I have a dinner to get ready for and you’re going to get sick if you’re out here much longer without warmer clothes, especially with the sun so close to going down. How long have you been out here, exactly?”

She shrugs, slipping her arms through the arm holes. Dick’s taller than her by enough inches that the sleeves hang down past her fingertips, but she’s not swimming in his coat the way they both do in Bruce’s.

“A while,” she replies simply.

“And dancing inside where it’s warm and you’re less likely to catch a cold or something worse wasn’t an option because…?”

“Not the right vibes,” she says with a smirk, leaning against his side and wrapping an arm around his waist.

Throwing an arm over her shoulders and pulling her close as they head for the door, Dick laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahaha.....i said i was posting this fic to try to motivate myself to finish it, but what happened is i posted it and then immediately started working on revisions/updates for a different fic. whoops?


	3. damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dick + damian!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this takes place during the batman reborn era! since damian didn't make the decision to become a vegetarian until after this, there's a line in here about alfred making him something with chicken in it. i promise i didn't forget about the vegetarian thing :) 
> 
> a little bit of this is inspired by [Soft nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13167777) by [ShariDeschain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShariDeschain/pseuds/ShariDeschain), a soft fic that's one of my faves. 
> 
> also, thank you to the wonderful [prismatical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prismatical/pseuds/prismatical) for reminding me about this fic, lol. if you're a fan of excellent batfam hurt/comfort fic like i am, you should absolutely check out their [detective stories](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784842) series!!

“ _Shh, shh..._ ”

Dick wipes back Damian’s sweaty bangs and applies a freshly dampened, cool washcloth to his forehead, frowning at the reading the thermometer gives him. His brother’s fever hasn’t broken yet, and, at 103 degrees, it’s still much too high for Dick’s liking.

Whatever concoction Scarecrow’s goons had hit Damian this evening with is having much worse side effects on his physical health than Crane’s normal formula does. They haven’t yet determined if it’s a new, experimental fear gas formula or some other bastardized (possibly even expired) cocktail that’s running through Damian’s system now, but the fear in his fever-glazed eyes and the terror in his delirious muttering has Crane’s disgusting fingerprints all over it.

Dick knows Arabic, broadly speaking - it’s the _League’s_ particular dialect of Arabic that he’s less fluent in. Damian’s been helping him, but even now he can barely understand every third word that slurs out of Damian’s mouth.

“No, no, _please_ \- “

That, though, is impossible to miss. He’s hearing it a lot tonight.

“ _Shh_ , Dames, it’s okay,” Dick repeats for the umpteenth time. Even though none of his previous whispered words of comfort have helped his brother calm down at all, it's better than just sitting here in tense, worried silence. “You’re in Gotham, far away from your grandfather; you’re safe here, I _promise_.”

Damian just whimpers, a heartbreaking sound that is no less devastating coming from his bold, outspoken little brother’s mouth in these moments than it was the first time Dick heard it.

“Has his fever come down at all?” Alfred asks, coming to stand at his side. Upon catching sight of the reading on the thermometer in Dick’s hand, he frowns. “Oh dear...it appears not.”

“How’s the antidote coming?” Dick asks instead. “Is Tim making any progress?”

“He said he believes he will have something fully synthesized and ready for injection in anywhere from two to four hours. Do you think the poor lad can hold on that long?”

Dick looks over at him, grimacing at the way Damian’s face is scrunched up in pain and fear from whatever incredibly unpleasant fever delusions the gas is causing him to have. His heart _aches_ to see his Robin suffering like this, especially when everything he does scarcely helps at all. Dick, not for the first time, feels a pang of sympathy for Bruce for all the grief and anxiety he must’ve caused his father with _his_ injuries and maladies when he was Damian’s age.

“The fever reducer we gave him earlier doesn’t seem to be having much of an effect,” Dick sighs. “I was thinking it’s probably time to put him in a bath.”

“He hasn’t thrown up anything else, has he?” Alfred asks. Dick shakes his head.

“Thankfully, no,” he says. “No bile, and not even dry heaving. Seems he finally got everything up.” Alfred tuts.

“I’ll get started on some chicken and orzo soup,” he says. “The lad will need to eat something to restore his strength after this ordeal.”

“Thank you, Alf,” Dick says as he takes one of Damian’s hands in his to keep him from scratching himself too badly with his nails. “Would you mind drawing the bath once you're upstairs? I’ll be up right after you.”

Alfred nods and departs.

“Hey, Tim?” Dick calls over to where his other brother is working at the computer. “I’m getting worried about Damian’s fever, so I’m gonna take him upstairs for a bath.”

“Alright,” Tim calls back, not even looking up from his work. Carefully, Dick strips Damian and himself down to just their boxers. He shivers for a moment in the bunker's chill, then he scoops Damian up in his arms and takes the elevator up to the penthouse, painfully aware of the heat radiating from Damian’s body.

Like any other absurdly wealthy person’s penthouse suite, the master bathroom here has both an exceptionally large shower and tub. The tub in particular is a thing of beauty, the kind of thing every bruised and aching vigilante dreams of after an exhausting night out on the town; it's large enough for someone of _Bruce’s_ size to be able to sit in it comfortably with their legs fully extended and have the water come as high as their neck. 

In other words, it’s more than big enough for Dick and Damian to share.

Alfred keeps Dick steady as he carefully enters the deep bath with Damian still in his arms. The water is lukewarm at best, not exactly comfortable for him, but it should help leech some of the excess heat from Damian’s body without being cold enough to shock his system. Alfred waits until the water is at a good level, then shuts it off.

“Call me if you need any assistance,” he says and Dick nods.

Then it’s just him and Damian.

The water comes up to Damian’s chest - deep enough to submerge the part of his torso where his heart is, but not so deep that simply shifting his head too much in one direction or the other risks accidental drowning.

Dick scoops up some of the water and spills it over Damian’s head. The boy splutters as Dick slicks his now-wet bangs back, fat droplets clinging to thick, blinking lashes.

“Grayson…?” Damian asks, his voice thin and faint. It’s good that he’s coherent enough to recognize where he is (or at least who he’s with), but Dick doubts it’ll last.

“I’m here, Damian; don’t worry,” Dick says, wrapping his arms more securely around his brother and pulling him close to his chest. He plants a firm kiss in his wet hair. “You have a pretty bad fever and we needed to cool you off.”

“Mmnn,” Damian intones, tilting his head back to try and see Dick.

“Hey, hey, you just relax,” Dick says. “I got you; I won’t let anything happen.”

“...Grandfather?” Damian’s too tired to hide the blatant fear in his voice and, not for the first time, Dick wishes he could wring the neck of that megalomaniacal dehydrated bag of bones.

“He’s not here,” Dick reassures him. “He’s far away on the other side of the ocean; we’re in Gotham, remember? In the penthouse? We’re home, bud; he can’t get you here.”

“Mm…” Damian goes limp in relief and slips back into unconsciousness soon after, but it’s not long before he’s clearly having nightmarish fever dreams again.

For two and a half long hours, Dick holds Damian close and comforts him as much as he can. He sings Beatles songs, then pivots to Fleetwood Mac, then pivots again to ABBA, attempts a one-man performance of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” and at one point even starts humming the wordless tunes he remembers his own mother singing to him when he got sick as a child. He whispers and sings and hums continuously until his throat hurts and then continues even after that.

Dick is hoarsely recounting the (rather hilarious, in his opinion) story of Bruce's attempts to find the perfect thirtieth birthday present for Clark when Tim appears in the doorway, a syringe in hand.

His skin is washed out and his bloodshot eyes are ringed with dark circles, evidence of the precious hours of sleep he gave up to manufacture the antidote. Dick reminds himself to do something nice for Tim after this to show his appreciation for his work; Damian likely won’t, so it’ll fall to him to make up for that.

“It’s ready,” Tim says. “Hold him steady while I do this.” Dick fishes Damian’s arm out of the cool water, holding it in place while Tim dries a spot on his bicep and swabs it with an alcohol wipe. Then, carefully, he lines the syringe up and injects the antidote.

Damian tenses up, but a rigorous patrol and hours of fighting feverish nightmares have left him weak; it takes no effort at all for Dick to keep him still.

“Alright,” Tim says, standing once he's applied a band-aid (Superman patterned) to the injection spot. “He should be good now. I’ll stay in the spare room today just in case it doesn’t work and he gets worse, but, for now, I’m going to sleep.”

“Thank you, Tim,” Dick says, catching Tim’s hand in his own. He gives it a squeeze, meeting his brother’s exhausted gaze and hoping his face conveys how grateful he is. The corner of Tim’s mouth twitches into a smile - it’s smaller and more tired than the ones Dick usually likes to see from his siblings (and this brother in particular), but it’s genuine and that’s good enough for him right now. “Go get some rest; sleep well.”

“Night,” Tim says, waving as he turns and leaves.

Dick waits another twenty minutes before he grabs the thermometer and checks Damian’s temperature again. This time, he’s down to 100 degrees - much better than before. Sighing in relief, he drains the tub and towels himself and Damian off.

Keeping Damian swaddled in one of the huge, fluffy towels Bruce stocked the penthouse with, Dick bypasses the boy's room and takes Damian to his room instead. There, he quickly changes into a pair of clean, dry boxers and throws on a soft tee and pair of pajama pants before collapsing on his bed at Damian’s side.

Carefully, he tugs the blankets and sheets out from under Damian's still-slumbering form before pulling them over them both, then finally shuts his eyes. Sleep is quick to claim him.

Hours later, he wakes to the sensation of a small, calloused finger tracing the contours of his face. The finger goes up his cheekbone, over his right eyebrow, down the bridge of his nose, outlining the cupid’s bow of his lips, before pausing at the scar on his chin. Bleary eyes crack open before he can think twice of it, and Dick finds Damian to be the perpetrator.

“Grayson,” his brother says, cheeks flushing at being caught in such a soft moment. He immediately retracts his hand, tucking it close to his chest under the covers again. “You’re awake. _Finally_.”

“Hey, Dames,” Dick says, rolling over to stretch with a dramatic yawn. “You feeling better, kiddo? That stuff they hit you with last night was pretty nasty.”

Damian tuts. “It will take more than a few idiots with fear gas to take me down for good,” he frowns. “I have some lingering fatigue and my mouth tastes like vermin used it as bedding last night, but I believe myself to be largely recovered from the affair.”

“That’s good to hear,” Dick says with a relieved grin. He rolls back over on his side and scoots closer to tug Damian into a hug, tucking the boy’s head under his chin. “You had me worried last night; we had a hard time getting your fever down.”

“ _Grayson_ ,” Damian whines, but he doesn’t fight to escape the hold. Instead, he snuggles closer, returning the hug as well as he can. Dick’s heart feels too big for his chest as he thinks about how far his brother has come in the months since they first began their partnership; he’s so proud of Damian’s growth he could _cry_.

“Pennyworth said you stayed with me the entire night,” Damian adds, quieter, speaking into the worn cotton of Dick’s shirt.

“Of course,” Dick says, dropping a kiss into Damian’s bedhead-tousled curls. “We’re partners. We’re _family_ \- I’ll always be there for you. And speaking of family, you really _should_ say thank you to Tim, since he’s the one who put together the antidote. He worked hard on it, you know; he had to give up quite a few hours of sleep to synthesize it.”

Damian groans. “ _Must_ I?” he complains.

“Yes,” Dick says. “If you want him to be nicer to you, then you also need to be nicer to him; it’s a two-way street, equivalent exchange and all that. Plus...it’ll piss your grandpa off.”

“Hmm,” Damian considers. “Now _that_ is a tempting thought, and perhaps your most compelling argument yet…”

Dick chuckles, squeezing Damian tighter for a moment before releasing him. The boy is surprisingly reluctant to let go in turn.

“C’mon,” he says, sitting up. “You must be starving; let’s go get some food. Alfred said he was making soup for you, and there’s nothing better than that when you’re getting over being sick. _Trust_ me.”

Right on time, Damian’s stomach growls.

“I suppose you possess _some_ wisdom,” Damian says, sliding out of bed after him. It appears he changed into some fresh pajamas at some point while Dick was sleeping, which means he made the conscious decision to crawl back in bed with him instead of getting on with his day.

_Aww_.

“I’ve been around the sun a few times,” Dick says, smiling as he wraps a fond arm around Damian’s shoulders and steers him towards the kitchen. “I’d certainly _hope_ I’d have some wisdom by now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep forgetting this fic exists because i'm so used to only publishing stuff once it's completed, lol. anyway, this time i got distracted because i decided i needed to read all of robin (1993) from start to finish for the first time, which ended up also including a readthrough of knightsend, prodigal, no man's land, and bruce wayne: murderer/fugitive (so far). prodigal in particular was so good it made me depressed about how shitty most current comics are, lmao. if you're a dick fan and you haven't read prodigal yet...you have no clue what you're missing out on. 
> 
> until next time! hopefully i actually _work_ on this between now and next time, lol. i'm running out of pre-written chapters! 
> 
> (as always, my social media links are in my profile!)

**Author's Note:**

> right now, i have chapters written/planned for cass, damian, babs, alfred, steph, jason, duke, and bruce. not sure if there will be any pattern to how i update yet - it depends on how much i get written for the remaining chapters. plus, there's some reading i need to do for some of these. 
> 
> as always, social media links are in my profile! i have an art blog now!


End file.
